


Expendable

by meinposhbastard



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Hunk is stronger than he thinks he is, M/M, clone theory, violence between the main chars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 12:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/pseuds/meinposhbastard
Summary: More expendable than you.





	Expendable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meynara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meynara/gifts).



> Written for Meynara who requested Shunk + more expendable than you, trope from the [Bad Things Happen Bingo](https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com).  
> I just remembered I didn't post this here.

 

It’s easy to let him bury himself deep into Hunk’s skin, gather him tightly to his chest and listen to their fast breathing as both their bodies fit against each other in furious friction, sweat glistening on each other. It’s easy to let him take without asking for anything in return.

It’s what he does. He gives.

And gives.

And gives. And gives. And gives. And never takes.

They don’t talk. They stopped talking after Shiro returned from his second time held captive. Now it’s just body language that maintains the communication between them, and even that one lacks on the best of their days. Hunk graciously accepted this long ago; everything to have Shiro near, still, to feel the heat of his body that tells Hunk that Shiro’s alive and well and  _ in his arms _ , to hear the breathing, hot and short, subtle and warm— to coexist alongside this man that shines more brightly than everything Hunk had ever seen.

Shiro doesn’t look at him anymore when they make love. If making love is what this is still called.

Sometimes Hunk cries when they do this, screaming on the inside for even a glance at him, a split second of gazes meeting. He doesn’t ask for much, doesn’t want words addressed to him. He just wants to have Shiro look him in the eye. That’s all.

They finish each other in silence, even though Shiro’s harsh breaths still echo in his ears. He slips out, tucks himself in and leaves.

Hunk cries, the semen cooling on his stomach, the room chilly now that his body calmed down. He berates himself for caring this much. He wants to rip apart that side of himself, become a shell— just like Shiro is.

He knows this is not Shiro, but he still holds out to— something. To the old Shiro, the old smiles and sweet words, the bashful side that Hunk found so endearing and that he’d tease Shiro about when they were alone, always gently and with an underlying fondness. They were in love and he can’t have that back because telling the team about this little secret means putting Shiro in the cryopod and have either Allura or Coran get into his head.

Subjecting Shiro to more torture is the last thing Hunk would ever do. He still doesn’t understand if Shiro was brainwashed and forced to be somebody else or if this was really a clone and Shiro was prisoner on some Galra warship, being tortured by the witch.

He wishes it’s the first option because that means that they have Shiro, that he can be reached.

His hands clench in the sheets, starved for the skin, the muscles, the arms and back that are just  _ not there _ .

Why are they involved in this stupid war?

Why did he fall in love?

Questions to which he both has the answer and doesn’t.

They’re attacked in the hangar by two druids who came to deliver a warning. They fight, but they’re no match to dark magic. Allura is the only one who manages to hold her own against the two of them, but even she is reaching her limits.

The druids multiply and each member of the team is engaged with more than one enemy at a time. The tension reaches huge heights and Hunk is grazed by a dark lightning that only manages to leave a wound on his arm and not incapacitate him more than that.

But it’s then that he sees the three druids ganging up on Shiro and forcing him to step closer to the open hangar. It’s a decision Hunk doesn’t even make; he just acts on instinct because—

— he takes his bayard and materializes his cannon, but doesn’t fire at them on account of it hitting Shiro accidentally—

— because—

— he runs several steps, enough so that, after his calculations, he’s at the perfect distance to throw the cannon and hit two out of three druids—

— because—

— it happens in two, maybe three seconds: the third druid is halfway through hitting Shiro with magic, as he has his back turned on the druid, and Hunk’s not a thinking man right now, least of all calculating or searching his mind for remnants of logic, as he jumps—

— because he is expendable.

Hunk falls over the edge, the druid evaporating around him.

Shiro watches him as if he’s looking at a blank wall.

Lance is the one that jumps after him, but it’s Yellow that catches them both. Pidge forces the bayard into Shiro’s stomach so hard that it sends the Black Paladin several feet away. There must be angry shouting and wrathful words coming from her, even as Keith is at her side, keeping her there, but not using too much strength as he, too, seems to mouth off things at Shiro. Hunk can see their contorted faces, the tense stances as Yellow flies them back up to the hangar.

But Shiro’s not getting up and Hunk has no more tears left to spill. Just a gaping maw that swallowed him whole.

Shiro comes back a couple of hours later with memory loss. He confesses that he has no idea what happened after they took him away. It confirms one of Hunk’s suspicions, but also allows for a ray of hope to unfurl.

He realizes this whole situation took a toll on him when he feels hatred towards himself for feeling hopeful after everything Shiro’s done to him. With his consent, yes. That doesn’t mean that it hurts less.

The hand wraps around his throat and it’s cold and too strong to fight off. There’s a cold glint in Shiro’s eyes and Hunk’s head thuds against the wall of his room, remarking with a bitter feeling that Shiro finally looks him in the eye. Another voice tells him that the one looking at him is  _ not _ Shiro.

“He never cared about you,” the voice that sounds like Shiro comes forth like an Arctic wind, frozen and unforgiving. “The witch is brainwashing him as we speak. She’s cleaning every single memory he has of you and the others. Soon, he won’t even know what race you are. The perfect tool for the Empire to use as it sees fit. You all will disappear.”

He pulls and pushes Hunk into the wall, with more force, and pain blooms at the back of his head.

“We’ll… save.... Shiro… before…“

A sharp smile crests Shiro’s lips and it feels like the tear of a jagged, rusty knife from one side of the stomach to the other. The hand tightens and Hunk’s losing consciousness, spots already present in his vision.

Reality is slipping away from him and he fights the hand, claws at it, but it’s metal and it doesn’t relent no matter how much Hunk thrashes against it.

There’s nothing coming from Shiro, no expression, no words, not even a blink.

Darkness eats at his world, even as a familiar feeling, a long-lost warmth pours into him.

_ Hunk, I’m coming. _

He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to believe that voice again— is the last thought he has before he gives up.


End file.
